


Winter Olympics AU

by jujuberry136



Series: Winter Olympics AU [1]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-12
Updated: 2010-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-17 12:35:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/176906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jujuberry136/pseuds/jujuberry136
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the BAU is reimagined as winter athletes at the 2010 Winter Olympics</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Olympics AU

**Author's Note:**

> Crack!fic, gen. No beta, so all spelling and grammar mistakes are my own.

The cafeteria was packed. Again. Prentiss scanned the crowded room, hoping for a free table or even seat. It was at times like this that she wished her team was bigger — the skiers and snowboarders were a large enough group to have always claimed three or four tables during the breakfast and lunch rush.

Movement distracted her from her thoughts. A man was waving. She looked around, but apparently he was waving at her.

“Looking for a seat?” He asked, grinning broadly at her confusion. He gestured to an empty chair next to him.

“Thanks,” Prentiss replied as she dropped down. “Emily Prentiss, biathlon. You?”

“No problem,” the man replied before stuffing a large helping of pasta into his mouth. “Derek Morgan, speed skating.”

Prentiss looked around the table disbelievingly. There was not way she was sitting at a table with a bunch of speed skaters. While Derek had the right diet and body (and boy what a body, her mind purred suggestively), the rest of the table’s members did not. From the lanky kid picking at a salad half-heartedly to the petite blonde with sweatpants and pink uggs, this table was something of an oddity at the normally segregated Olympic cafeteria.

Derek took in her disbelieving look with a smirk. “Welcome to the best damn table in Vancouver. Clockwise we’ve got Spencer Reid, figure skating,” the thin kid waved, “Jennifer “J.J.” Jareau, snowboarding, women’s half-pipe, Aaron Hotchner, speed skating’s sports psychologist, Dave Rossi, JJ’s physical therapist, and Penelope Garcia.” He turned to the last woman, her hair a shocking shade of crimson and full of butterfly barrettes. “I’m not actually sure what your technical title is,” he admitted.

Penelope looked over her bright red glasses incredulously. “Derek Morgan, you are lucky you look so damn fine in your tights or I’d seriously be tempted to destroy your credit score right about now.”

Derek laughed. “Are you hearing this?”

“She’ll do it,” Reid said, looking up from his salad. “You should have seen what happened to the reporter who started crossing personal boundaries.”

Garcia snorted. “Personal boundaries? That woman was all over you like you were the last dark chocolate bar in existence. There was a puddle of drool coming from her mouth large enough to fill Lake Placid!”

Reid blushed.

“Anyway,” Garcia said, extending a hand to Prentiss, “Penelope Garcia, men’s figure skating costume designer, moral support, and all around beacon of joy. Nice to meet you! I’ve never actually met a biathlete before, how’d you get into the sport?”

Prentiss grimaced, steeling herself to tell the story of her family’s involvement in the sport. But before she could get past, “My grandfather,” JJ interrupted.

“Don’t worry about it sweetie,” she said. “I know that face too well. How’re you liking Vancouver so far?”

After the conversation had wound its way past the usual complaints of noisy and inconsiderate roommates, the deplorable lack of snow, and everyone’s thoughts of the opening ceremonies, Prentiss finally got to ask the question she’d been pondering since sitting down. “No offense, but what are you all doing here?”

At their incredulous looks, she clarified. “Not here in Vancouver, but here at the table. It’s unusual to say the least…I don’t normally see a lot of inter-sport socialization, despite the USOC’s better efforts.”

The table all rolled their eyes at the last part of her question. The USOC’s constant efforts to present a unified American Olympic team were legendary.

“Dave and I are old friends,” Aaron replied. “Derek and JJ interrupted our lunch one day…”

“Hey!” JJ protested playfully. “There weren’t any seats and Will isn’t coming with Henry for another five days so it’s not like I have too many other people to eat with!”

Dave shot her an indulgent grin. “Sure. It had nothing to do with the fact that you never believe me when I tell you I have friends.”

“All I’ve met have been ex-wives,” JJ retorted. “I was just making sure Aaron didn’t have any intentions!”

“Anyway,” Derek interrupted. “It just sort of became routine.”

Prentiss looked at Penelope and Spencer. “So how’d you two get pulled into this madness?”

“They just showed up one day,” Aaron deadpanned.

Penelope reached across the table and hit the older man. “You big jerk! He totally invited us,” she explained to Prentiss.

Reid finally entered the conversation. “Hotch and I met at a bunch of sports psychology seminars. I ran into him on the bus and he invited Penelope and I to lunch, and the tradition’s been a success so far.”

Prentiss frowned. “Wait, I thought you were figure skater?”

“A couple years ago I was having trouble before competitions, so I started to study sports psychology.” He shrugged. “I’d already done some undergraduate work in psychology so it wasn’t a big leap.”

“Ended up taking time off for training?” Prentiss asked sympathetically, remembering her own problems balancing schoolwork and training.

“Actually, I have three PhDs,” he replied. “The bachelor’s work in psychology was because I thought it’s an avenue worth more study. I’ll probably get back to it in the fall semester.”

Prentiss tried very hard not to let her jaw drop. “So Penelope,” she started, aware that the change in conversation was less than graceful, “What made you choose costume design?”

“Um, an excuse to go wild with spandex, sparkles, and glitter?” the woman responded. “What’s not to love? Sadly, Spencer’s my only client so I do a fair bit of tech consulting on the side.” She looked at Spencer sideways. “If someone would stop referring to my hard work as ‘sparkling onesies’ I might be able to get a little bit more business.”

Reid blushed. “It was one time! I didn’t even know she was still recording!”

The rest of the table didn’t bother to hide their laughter. Derek leaned over to Prentiss and confided, “They do this all the time — it’s all in good fun.”

Prentiss found herself drinking in the warm camaraderie of the table, allowing herself to push the constant tension of living up to her family’s expectations to the part of her brain that dealt with Matthew, her father, and all of the events from ages 15 to 17.

Penelope glanced at her watch apologetically. “I’m sorry, but we really need to go. We’ve got rink time reserved and Gideon’s going to kill me if I let Spencer be late again.”

“Let?” Spencer squawked indignantly. “I’m pretty sure I’m not the one who was unable to move when the bobsled team started to celebrate a good run by flashing the rest of us.”

Prentiss waved the duo out, laughing at the sight of Penelope pushing and shoving the protesting skater away from the desert tray.

“Sadly,” Hotch said, “We’ve got to go as well. Derek’s got a heat in a couple hours.”

Derek shuddered theatrically. “See you tomorrow?” He asked hopefully. “Same bat time, same bat channel.”

“Sounds good to me.”


End file.
